


Corner Man

by maej26



Category: Monday Night RAW - Fandom, Professional Wrestling, Sports Entertainment, WWE, World Wrestling Entertainment, wrestling - Fandom
Genre: Friendship, M/M, Mizley, in-ring storyline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-22
Updated: 2013-06-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 00:18:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5475947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maej26/pseuds/maej26
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place after Miz compliments Alex during his commentary on Main Event (May 2013).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Corner Man

**Author's Note:**

> (This fic has been backdated to when I originally wrote it)
> 
> Because this is what Miz and A-Ry deserve - if only ever in the written form.

The Miz is knocked out. His opponent hooks his leg and rolls on top of him, pinning his shoulders to the mat. The ref counts to three and he could easily keep going, but it isn’t necessary. The match is over.

Miz winces. His head hurts, and the winner’s obnoxious music blaring throughout the _echo chamber_ of an arena certainly doesn’t help. Physically drained, he tumbles out of the ring and falls to the padded floor with a _thump_. Sits up and slouches against the apron wondering why he can’t get out of the slump he’s in. It’s been a while since he’s won a match and even when he was winning, it was nothing compared to his momentum two years earlier when he was the WWE Champion.

Not having the strength, nor the will to get up, Miz just sits there, eyes shut tight, wishing everyone would just disappear, or that _he_ could. That way no one would see him walking up the ramp in his current state of defeat. Wishing for such things is no use though; everyone’s still there - he can hear them and since he can hear them, he knows he’s still there, too. By this point, Miz has no choice but to open his eyes and when he does, the view in front of him has been altered. It’s no longer a black barricade. There’s no visual of his fans in the audience, no visual of his detractors either, it’s just a man’s hand, palm to the sky. Someone wants to help him up and this surprises Miz because no one’s wanted to help him since…

The spotlights are shining down on Miz with a blinding intensity. They’re usually not so bright, but because of his pounding headache, his eyes have become overly sensitive to the light. So much so that it’s hard for him to look up to see who’s towering over him. All he knows is that he doesn’t feel threatened, but it’s still a risk for him to trust anyone. Taking a chance and hoping it’s not a ruse concocted by one of his many enemies, the fallen superstar extends his own hand and is pulled to his feet by a strong source.

Looking in front of him, Miz is finally able to identify the man who’s helped him and now he wishes it had been one of his enemies setting him up; that would have been far less humiliating than having his former protégé, Alex Riley, coming to his rescue.

“I don’t need your help!” Miz barks, angrily ripping his hand away.

Alex takes a step backwards, giving Miz his space, but Miz doesn’t stay long enough to need it. He rushes past Alex and makes his way backstage, cursing himself for not just doing that to begin with.

Alex makes his way up the ramp and behind the curtain, heads for the locker room. He turns a corner and is blindsided, slammed against the concrete wall with impressive force, enough to knock the wind out of him.

“Don’t you ever do that again!” Miz bellows, antagonistically shoving Alex’s shoulders against the wall again. Wonders why he couldn’t muster this kind of strength during his match.

Alex doesn’t say anything, just watches as Miz walks away.

The following Monday, Miz is placed in another match that isn’t going his way. In the past, Miz could adapt to anything, overcome any obstacle that arose, but these days, as soon as he fumbles one of his moves, it’s nearly impossible for him to regain traction. He gets caught up in his insecurities and ends up over thinking his strategy, if he even had one. Regardless of the troubles floating around in his own headspace, the match continues. He hangs in there the best he can, kicking out, near fall after near fall, but he’s just biding his time, knows he won’t be able to kick out much longer. And then he no longer has the option of kicking out.

Things take a turn for the worst when his opponent locks him in a devastating submission hold. His leg was already in bad shape, but now it’s about to cost him his match. He raises his hand, on the verge of tapping out when all of a sudden he feels the ring tremble and there’s additional weight on his back. It lasts for only a second and then all the weight is gone. But the trembling of the ring turns into a violent rumbling under his belly.

Almost instantaneously, there’s a clamoring of the bell and the ring announcer is declaring that Miz has been disqualified. He grits his teeth, turning to see what all the commotion is about; swears he better not see who he thinks he’ll see, but sure enough he does. Alex Riley has interfered and cost Miz his match. The fact that he was microseconds away from tapping out is completely irrelevant as far as he’s concerned.

The Miz jumps to his feet, his leg making a remarkable recovery and he barrels towards Alex, punches him square in the jaw. His scheduled opponent gets out of the ring while he has the chance, leaving only Miz and Alex between the ropes.

“I told you to leave me alone!” Miz shouts, but no one can really hear him except for Alex.

“You were going to lose!”

“It’s _my_ match to lose!”

Alex stares at Miz, wonders if the man even realizes how pathetic he sounds.

Miz can’t stand the look on Alex’s face so he shoves him and turns towards the official, demanding a microphone. He quickly turns the logo upside down. “Let the record show that I had nothing to do with Alex Riley’s stunt! I don’t know what he’s trying to prove and to be honest, I really don’t care. All I care about is that I get a rematch next week!”

Alex scoffs at Miz’s theatrics and walks over to the apron to request a microphone of his own. “This isn’t a stunt, Miz,” he says, turning back towards the center of the ring. “I’m just trying to help you.”

“Really? Now that’s cute,” Miz says condescendingly. “In case you forgot, I fired you two years ago, so you can turn around and walk back to the land of obscurity. No one here even remembered you existed before last week!”

Alex smirks, knows that’s not entirely true and even if it was, he’s never been one to let an insult affect him, especially if it’s coming from The Miz. “I heard what you said on Main Event the other week.”

Typically quick to respond and always eager to do so, Miz is uncharacteristically quiet. He knows exactly what Alex is referring to, but for once, he doesn’t know how to respond. For the life of himself, he has no idea why he even mentioned the guy in the first place. Because of his silence, he leaves the stage wide open and now Alex has the perfect opportunity to elaborate.

“You said, when Alex Riley was in my corner I knew I had an ace in the hole.”

Miz’s first instinct is to attack Alex, to make him shut up. The way he sees it, he’s got two options and neither looks very promising. If he chooses a physical attack, he knows Alex will wipe the floor with him. He’s already exhausted from his match and as much as he’d like to believe he could win, Alex will know his every move before he makes it. That’s just what happens after spending a year with someone. On the other hand, if he chooses a verbal attack, he knows his only chance at winning is to merely outlast Alex. Talk louder and faster and longer than him. It won’t matter what he says as long as he doesn’t create an opening like he’s already done. Although, if he had that kind of stamina, chances are he’d end up driving Alex to attack him instead, and then he’s back to being humiliated. So, despite his incredible knack for improv and his uncanny ability to lie through his teeth about anything and everything, he still doesn’t speak. Maybe it’s because he’s tired of hating someone he never hated at all, and maybe it’s because he knows what Alex will say next. Maybe he wants him to say it.

“Or how about the following week when you said that I, Alex Riley, was your confidence builder, your corner man.” Alex adds a certain emphasis on the adjectives Miz used to describe him, really seems to have enjoyed that part of the man’s commentary. Some sections of the audience applaud and he can’t possibly hide his smile. “And then you said I was the reason you won at Wrestlemania! That’s what you said. I could have the control room play it back for you, if you need a reminder.”

Miz turns an interesting shade of red - the scorching flames of a burning anger blended with the subtle blush of embarrassment.

“That’s why I’m out here, Miz. I thought you were finally past all that garbage when you blamed me for-“

“For costing me my WWE Championship and sabotaging every chance I had at winning it back? No, I’m not over it because that’s exactly what you did!”

“You still think I was trying to screw you over back then? Do you even hear yourself right now? Personal services contract or not, I was trying to be your friend. I was trying to help you, like I am right now!”

“You never helped me. You were only looking out for yourself. You used me and then you rode my coattails all the way to the-“

“To the main event of Wrestlemania. Yeah, yeah. I remember.” Alex rolls his eyes dramatically, mocking Miz for being so predictable.

“That’s right! And if given the chance, you’d ride my coattails all the way to next year’s Wrestlemania, too!”

“How can I ride your coattails anywhere when all you do is lose?”

The crowd laughs and Miz is fuming. Raises his microphone to finally let loose.

“No, no. I’ll tell ya what,” Alex says before Miz can get a word in edgewise. “Instead of a rematch next week, how ‘bout you and I have a match instead. If I lose-“

“ _When_ you lose.”

Alex clears his throat, trying to remain calm. “If I lose, I’ll leave you alone and you can go on pretending that your version of events is what happened. But if I win, you have to admit that I never intentionally tried to hurt you, that my only crime was being your friend. And after that, we get back what we had in 2010 and forget about the last two years. Deal?” Alex holds out his hand but all Miz does is continue glaring at him. “C’mon, if you’re so sure you’ll win, then there shouldn’t be a problem.”

The audience cheers, trying to convince Miz to accept the match, mostly because they just want the two to clear the ring so the next matchup can get started.

Miz looks around. “Is that what you all want? You want me to humiliate Riley? Beat him up so badly that he can never set foot in a ring again?” He looks back to Alex, ignoring what the audience wants or doesn’t want, and ignoring what he knows is best for himself. This is about pride now. “Next Monday you’re gonna wish you never met me!”

A week later, Alex is officially granted his match against The Miz. There’s a fire in Miz that the audience hasn’t seen in a very long time and it reminds them of just how talented the self-proclaimed _must-see_ superstar is.

The matchup is even for the most part until it reaches the ten minute mark, at which point Alex starts to pull ahead. Finally, he’s able to hit Miz with a few of his best moves. He follows up with his finisher and it’s over. Miz has lost.

Energetically, Alex jumps to his feet, eagerly holding out his hand to help Miz up, but Miz swats his hand away and gets up on his own.

“Get me a microphone!” The timekeeper hands a mic up to Miz and he snatches it, spinning around to Alex. He has no intention of rolling over so easily. Unsurprisingly, he demands a rematch be set up for next week. Makes a ridiculous claim that he should get one more try, even though there’s nothing in him that believes he’ll actually win. But that’s all part of his defiant nature.

Since Alex is confident he’ll have no trouble pinning Miz again, he agrees to the rematch without a second thought.

Before Miz knows it, it’s Monday again and he’s back in the squared circle with his rival, Alex Riley. This is it. He stands in the opposite corner, eyes fixated on Alex. He has to win this time or he’ll be forced to admit that he was wrong, something he swore he’d never do; not out loud, not to anyone. He already knows he was wrong. He’s known it since before it happened, but that’s on him. He’s learned to live with the guilt of pushing Alex away. It’s not something he ever thought he’d do, or anything he wanted to do, it’s something he _had_ to do. He couldn’t stand the thought of looking weak in his friend’s eyes. Better to push him away and be hated, than for Alex to feel even an ounce of pity towards him. So, he did what had to be done, for self-preservation’s sake.

“Ring the bell!” the ref shouts.

The timekeeper rings the bell and the match is an instant crowd pleaser. The audience doesn’t hate Miz or Alex as much as they did two years ago. In fact, the majority even seems to like them, so they’re not focused on heckling them this time around, they just focus on the quality of the match.

Once again, Alex manages to get the upper hand and after several strenuous kick outs on Miz’s end, Alex knows he’s got this one in the bag. He hits Miz with his finishing maneuver and Miz is down for the count. Alex hooks his leg and rolls on top of him; shoulders flat on the mat.

The ref slams his hand down. _“One!”_

And again. _“Two!”_

But before the count of three, Alex sits up - Miz’s shoulders still down on what would have been _three_. The ref yells at Alex, tells him to stop fooling around, but there’s nothing about this that Alex finds funny, so he ignores him. From this point forward, it’s just him and Miz. No audience. No ref. Nothing.

Alex stands up, looking down to the man he used to look up to; the man he still looks up to. With sincerity, he holds out his hand. Miz looks up - his face hard, his eyes cold, silently begging Alex to stop, but Alex stands there, unmoving, unyielding. He’s always regretted not fighting harder for his friendship and he’s not going to let Miz push him away again.

Suddenly, it’s as if something inside Miz has finally clicked. He hadn’t even realized there was an ulterior motive behind pushing Alex away; a more secret one. It affected him so deeply that instead of dealing with it, he’s kept it hidden. But in seeing how steadfast and determined Alex is now to mend their broken friendship, the reason finally reveals itself. It was a test. It was immature, selfish. He wanted to test Alex’s loyalty. Push him away by using every mistake he ever made against him, and see if he was willing to put up with it. And when it blew up in Miz’s face - Alex unable to live up to an impossible standard - Miz went into a freefall. Spiraling out of control, never able to recapture what he once had.

There’s always been a small part of himself, sitting dormant, waiting for an opportunity to reach out to Alex. Never would have imagined having to wait two years, but it finally came and not just once, but twice. A bigger part of himself was actually convinced that Alex did betray him, and sabotage him, but now he knows the only one guilty of those things is himself.

Miz’s facial expression softens, his eyes becoming sad. It’s an emotion Alex hasn’t seen from him in years, or at least, it’s an emotion he’s no longer disguising as another. It takes him back to a time where nothing could stand in their way. Miz reaches out and grabs hold of Alex’s hand and is pulled up with a strength he’s always known surpasses his own. It’s a strength he always trusted would protect him, a strength he always hoped would find its way back to him. He stares into Alex’s eyes, no more hostility, no more barrier between the two. The only barrier now is the one blocking them off from the rest of the world. Miz knows the audience is still out there, but he’s not sure of their reaction. They could be cheering - happy to see old friends getting along again - or they could be up in arms because they didn’t get a proper finish to the match. Either way, he really doesn’t care. As far as Miz is concerned, he and Alex are all that exist.

Alex pulls Miz close to him, places his hands on his shoulders and speaks so only his friend can hear. “You’re gonna be WWE Champion again. I’m gonna help you get it back. And we don’t have to stop there. You can have it all.”

Miz nods, smiling softly, and before he can thank Alex for not giving up on him, he finds himself already wrapped up in a familiar hug and all that confidence comes rushing back.


End file.
